


It

by nerdkate88



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, pearl-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdkate88/pseuds/nerdkate88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you love someone so fully, So completely, and never tell them?<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Is it possible that someone so full of love, could still find some for you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It

**Author's Note:**

> Pearl-centri fic about Pearl and steven. Slight AU, possibly. It stared out as a generic fic, but swiftly turned into a Steven Universe fan fic. :) oops.

    How can you love someone so fully, so completely, and never tell them? Is it possible to dedicate your life to someone so unwaveringly that you don’t notice the scars anymore, the bruises, and the pang of a home in your heart? Is it possible to love them so unwaveringly and then- in return- they go away forever? They leave you nothing to remember them by, save for the black cloud of grief ever accumulating and an unfailing, burning hatred. Not of them, of course, but of you and your love and of the feeling you get when you remember her. Oh and It. Sometimes you wonder if you really had anything. If she felt the same spark you did, the same devotion. She was so full of love and heart, was there really none for you? You sometimes wonder if you can ever love anything the way you loved her. Could you even love the Thing she left behind in her place? The thing you hid from yourself. The thing that drools and sleeps, and pines for the exact same things you do. Her love and Her affection. Not yours. You know She loved the Thing and It doesn’t. You know it will never know Her love unless you tell It and you pity It. And you hate It. You hate it because you know for a fact it had her love, she told you so herself. You know she loves this weak, pathetic creacher, and you never know if she would ever love you the same way. Sometimes you catch yourself staring at It, wondering darkly if It were to go away… would she come back? You know it’s wrong, and untrue, and a dozen other things but you can’t help it. And sometimes when It cries, you feel like just letting it cry for Her like you do. You like hearing It miss Her. You know, however, She’d never allow It to cry, to be in such obvious pain, so as a duty to her, you quell its tears when no one else can, and again you feel the love you felt for her and you remember why she left and you hate the thing all over again.

It’s a poisonous cycle, but you can’t help it.

   At a year old It responds when you call it “the Thing”. It giggles and coos like it does when the others say his name and an interesting feeling feels you. You feel important, but not loved. The books you invested in when She told you about It say It should be saying Its first words any day now. You wait and wish yet again that She were here to hug you once more and you want to let the scent of roses waft over you like an ocean of sweet smells. Instead you’re forced to smell the scents of humanity that the Thing secretes. It reminds you that it is not a gem, it is a fragile thing. It is nothing like Her. Recently you’ve realized you've been the one to take care of It. The Others say it’s because you were the closest to Her, you’re the best at mothering, etc., Etc., but you know They know you hate It. They want you to “Bond.” You can’t tell if it’s working or not. You still hate It, just a little less than before. You feel less the need to ignore It, and more the need to protect. You realize this is the last piece you have of her in this world, possibly the only peice in any world. You can’t lose her again. It says It’s first word a few days later, and it’s your name. Pearl.

You decide to start calling Him Steven.

   As He grows, you grow too. You learn things like names, places, words you never thought you’d need but now are common place in your life. Much like Him, honestly. You realize that he’s a lot like Her. His laugh, His smile, His unbound less love. Unlike with Her, you know He loves you. He told you so. The first time he says so, you cry. He did too, which made you cry harder. One day, while going through some old stuff, you find some of Her old stuff. It makes you think of Her. You wonder what she’d think of you now. The thought worries you because while you love him deeply, there’s still that black pit that calls him “It” and “The Thing” and wonders if he were to fall, if he were to go away as it were, She’d come back. The pit was fed by the fears you harbored, unresolved questions you never got to ask. Wonder if maybe She never did cherish you the way you cherished her. Her child finds you like this, tears threatening to over-flow as you clutch the old heirloom. He’s worried- of course- and scared. You mentally defend yourself for showing weakness but He can’t hear and even if he could, he wouldn’t care. He just wants to know what’s wrong and how he can help. He’s so much like his mother in that way, you muse. You don’t want to tell him your troubles, he was a child he didn’t know what he was asking! Like Her, however, he was persistent. You tell Him everything. About you and Her and what you went through and everything. You sit in silence, not daring to look at him out of fear and cowardice. What he must’ve thought of you now. She would have been so disappointed. As you sit in self-pity, you almost don’t feel the shift of a weight leaning against your back. You look down at him to discover something odd. He’s hugging you. You seize up, almost certain that this was wrong. That he shouldn’t be hugging you. He should be mad, furious even. But, he’s not. He tells you that He’ll always love you and you wouldn’t admit it, but a tear falls. Afterwards you both go downstairs and bake cookies together. He makes you tea and you make him hot cocoa and you both sit and stargaze together. After he went to sleep, you sit on your couch and contemplate. You feel that part of you, the tiny, weak, hurt part of you calling for you to return, but you know you wouldn’t. For ten years now, you’ve wondered where you stood with Her, and know you know. Rose must’ve loved you.

Would she have left you Steven if she did not?


End file.
